


Kitsunebi

by thegracious



Category: Naruto
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dubious Consent, F/F, Minato is Sir Not Appearing in this Fic, Ninjas were invented for political assassinations, Seduction Misison, all i wanted was lesbian ninjas, assassinations, case fic (hopefully), i said to myself, not enough lesbians in this fandom, so give me a political assassination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegracious/pseuds/thegracious
Summary: Mikoto is a proud kunoichi of Konoha. She does her duty. But duty makes for a cold bed partner, and a red-hot flame burns too bright, just close enough for her to reach.ORMikoto, a lonely bride-to-be with cold feet, needs to play a lonely bride-to-be with cold feet on a mission and ends up seducing more than just the target.
Relationships: Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina, Uchiha Fugaku/Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Mikoto/Uzumaki Kushina
Kudos: 7





	Kitsunebi

Her father broke the news to her on the morning she received her last mission.

“The clan head is dying,” her father said bluntly. “I’m told that it’s lung cancer.” Smoke lingered over the breakfast table as Mikoto’s father took another drag from his cigarette; fire was in their blood and Mikoto knew well that she’d lose her father to the same disease. The smell of tobacco clung stubbornly to the walls of the whole Uchiha compound as proof of an inherited addiction. Mikoto herself had never tried it, but the smoke, the spark, the flame – that she found as addictive as any of her clan.

“I’m sure that you know Fugaku-kun’s brother did not return from his last mission.” A flick of his wrist, and ash fell into a delicate porcelain dish next to her father’s tea. Mikoto said nothing, eyes trained on the tea she was pouring out. It was impossible to forget; Fugaku was a friend, despite everything, and she had never been afraid of him. But at his brother’s funeral – well.

“The clan cannot afford the appearance of instability at a time of war,” her father admitted tiredly. “I had hoped that you could be your own woman for longer, my daughter, but the world is not forgiving.”

Mikoto said nothing. The kyuusu, she sat down on the table with an elegant gesture. The smoky fragrance of the houjicha diffused into the smoke of her father’s cigarette; the Uchiha Clan’s masterful memory is derived from their superior sight, but the scent would sear itself into her memory, nonetheless.

She ran into Kushina outside the mission assignment office, retirement paperwork in hand. “Mikoto-chan!” Kushina cried, slinging an arm around Mikoto’s shoulders. “I hope you haven’t got a mission assignment yet, because I just got an A-rank to Yugakure! An onsen getaway for a mission, and I’ve got room for one back-up kunoichi!” Kushina waved her mission scroll for emphasis – red, lined with more red. Assassination-sabotage.

Mikoto had the paperwork filled out, and a retirement date planned. It was in two weeks – Mikoto had a regular shift with the Military Police and border patrol on weekends; they would need to find a permanent replacement for the ranking jounin on both her squads. She was slated for a genin team too. The Academy had been pumping out graduates faster than the teachers could find jounin-sensei; they’ll have to replace her on that roster. Distantly, Mikoto was glad that the Academy hadn’t begun assigning teams yet. Retirement would be so much harder to swallow if she knew what she was giving up.

She took too long to reply. Kushina’s cheerfulness dimmed, and she frowns at Mikoto. “Mikoto-chan? Did something happen?”

“A-aah,” Mikoto stammered, scrambling for a proper reply. “I was just thinking about my next shifts at the border. How long is the mission going to take?”

Kushina still frowned at her doubtfully, but she answered. “It shouldn’t be more than two weeks. Can’t tell you more unless you’re really coming with; I think I can check if Yoshino-chan is free, but I’d really rather have you.” She pouted at Mikoto, grey eyes going as watery and pleading as if they were genin again and begging Sakumo-sensei for a C-rank. “You’re much more badass than Yoshino, and I need the best back up!”

Sakumo-sensei could never resist it either. “Fine,” Mikoto sighed. She glanced down at the paperwork at hand and shrugged off the arm Kushina still had around her waist. “I guess I can bug Fugaku into finding someone to take my shifts. I’ll go take this paperwork to the police station, and you can tell me the details tonight.”

“Yes!” Kushina pumped a fist at the sky, a huge grin on her face. “Meet up at the teahouse for a briefing, at 1500, and we leave tomorrow!” She gave Mikoto one last hug and disappeared into a swirl of leaves.

Mikoto had been working at the Military Police since she got promoted to jounin; it’s expected of her clan, and even if it’s nothing as exciting as the front-line work Kushina does with her assault squad, she liked the work. Wartime always saw the main Uchiha forces on defensive lines; some of her clansmen got assigned to strike teams, like Obito-kun, but the risk of bloodline theft was too great. There were rumors that the clan elders were beginning to consider a seal like the Hyuuga’s Caged Bird Seal, but they had never gone beyond hearsay.

Still, manning the borders was dangerous work, and it cost lives. It was war; everyone lost someone. But loss was always so much harder on her family, and when Fugaku came home with unfamiliar eyes, she knew exactly what had happened.

“Mangekyo,” she had breathed at the sight, and beside her, her father stiffened.

Fugaku had grown more and more withdrawn since then, and with his father’s sharp decline, he had only become curter and colder. He was already devoted to his work at the station; now, rumors at work put his average workday at sixteen-hour shifts. He seemed exhausted enough for it to be true; Fugaku barely noticed Mikoto as she slipped through his office window, and when he noticed her there, his reaction was much too delayed to be healthy.

“Mikoto. I assume your father told you?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry about your father,” she told him quietly. “But when did you last have a day off?”

Fugaku sighed too. “Shut the door.”

She did, and when she settled on the chair by Fugaku’s desk, he finally let himself sag. “Everything happened too fast,” he said gruffly, and he scrubbed his hands down his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “How can I take _any_ time off? We haven’t even found a replacement for Hijiri, and now I have my father’s work to deal with too. And Elder Yagami came by and lectured me on how you need to retire, and how we need an heir as soon as possible, and I’ve got three jounin-level positions to fill in the next two weeks.”

Three jounin-level Uchiha; two squad captains and one precinct captain. They just didn’t have the people to spare. Mikoto swallowed, and ventured: “What do the elders think of recruiting outside the clan?”

“I tried that,” Fugaku snapped. “You know what they’re like. And even the general forces don’t have free jounin left – did you know they’re considering promoting the Hatake kid?”

No. “Kakashi-kun? He’s just a child!” 

“He’s a child with the qualifications, Mikoto.” He gestured to the forms in front of him, schedules filled with shifts they need to fill for the safety of everyone in the village. “He’s twelve, but even I can start to see that we don’t have much of a choice.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that, so Mikoto said nothing, ignoring the deepening pit in her stomach. Fugaku couldn’t say anything more either, but eventually, he straightened up again, shoring up his exhausted body with some hidden well of will. “But that’s not your problem. What did you come here for?”

She handed him her packet of retirement paperwork. “Father gave me the expected dates for the…” she trailed off, unable to say it, and she could see that Fugaku didn’t want to talk about it too. “I’ve set a target retirement date in a fortnight, but I have to change it.”

Fugaku’s eyes flick back at her. “What’s come up?”

“Ah.” Mikoto knew better than to fidget, and in any case, Fugaku wasn’t clan head yet. She lied to her cousins all the time. “I’ve been recruited for an infiltration mission; genjutsu is critical and I’m the ranking specialist in-village.”

“Yuuhi-san?”

“On a mission already.” Or at least, that’s what she last heard. Better cover her tracks, in any case. “It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. The mission requires kunoichi.”

That, at least, drew a reaction. “Miko-chan –” Fugaku started, her childhood nickname slipping out, but her glare cuts him off.

“This is likely to be the last mission of my career, Fugaku,” she said coldly. “They want my skills. I might be destined to be your wife, but I earned my position.” She stood, and even though her build would never be imposing, her Sharingan was among the most dangerous in the village. It was why she was selected at all.

“This is my notice of resignation, this document is everything you’ll need to do or have made for the wedding, and you can expect me back in two weeks. The mission is classified; I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Kushina preferred a light and sweet jasmine oolong imported from the Land of Tea; it reminded her of Uzushio, and the people who had lived there. Mikoto never cared for it, preferring the roasted notes of houjicha, but both women were outliers within Konoha, where the steamed, vegetal sencha of the Hyuuga Clan was popular. Mikoto would rather drink coffee if her favorite tea was not available, and Kushina thought sencha tasted way too green. 

So Shiori-san’s teahouse was their favorite place to meet, because Shiori-san always kept a large variety of teas on hand. But aside from her tea selection, Shiori-san’s teahouse was useful for its private tea rooms; she had been a kunoichi herself, and each room could be sealed off for more private, classified discussions.

That afternoon, there was another pot of houjicha for Mikoto, and Kushina, after a lot of indecision, tried out an imported infusion of tropical fruits. Kushina kept up a cheerful chatter until their tea was served, and after Shiori-san had departed, she pulled out a seal from her flak jacket and stuck it on the wall behind her. After a quick hand seal, the paper glowed blue.

“All right, on to business.” Kushina handed the mission scroll to Mikoto and produced some additional paperwork. “The target is a lord from the Land of Lightning; he’s a major trading partner of Iwa and is their largest foreign supplier of rice. He’s pretty old, and he’s known to visit the Land of Hot Springs when the hurricane season begins in the Land of Lightning. We’ve got two objectives. First is assassination – not just of the lord but also his heirs, to send the inheritance into crisis, and the second is the acquire any correspondence related to trade between Kumo and Iwa.”

So far, it seemed like a straightforward assassination in B-rank territory – until Mikoto reached the end of the scroll. Well. There it is. 

To be fair to Kushina, she did look fairly abashed to be springing such a surprise on her best friend. “Yeah… So, he’s hired A as his primary bodyguard.”

“A relaxing A-rank?” Mikoto hissed. “He might be faster than your boyfriend – even with the Hiraishin! He’s nearly as strong as Tsunade-sama! And these are the same people who tried to kidnap you for your bloodline; who in their right mind gave you this mission?”

“Hey! You’re not even done with the scroll yet,” Kushina protested. “This lord has Killer B too – that’s why I have to go. We don’t have any other shinobi who can match Killer B on sheer firepower, and this guy isn’t only business partners with Iwa. A and B are also on the way to meet with representatives of the Tsuchikage, to formalize an alliance. If we’re lucky, it’ll just be a trade alliance, but if we’re not –”

“We’ll be fighting a war on our entire northern border,” Mikoto finished. Kushina nodded, grim. It wasn’t a good look on her.

“So to sum up, we have to assassinate this lord and his direct heirs, stop the meeting between Kumo and Iwa, and steal important trade information – in two weeks. We just got the intel, Mikoto; if Jiraiya-sama hadn’t sent a toad to the Hokage we wouldn’t have known about it until after the deal’s pushed through.” It was always a surprise to see Kushina like this: straightforward and serious, wholly focused on the objective. “You were specifically requested because even if I know that I’m perfectly capable of restraining Killer B if he lets the Hachibi loose, it’ll be a billboard pointing straight in our direction. Your genjutstu’s good enough to give the Kyuubi a bad time; that’s better odds than anyone else in the village.”

“Anyone else coming with us?” Mikoto scanned the rest of the intelligence reports, committing every detail to memory. There was a small reference number tucked away at the very end of the scroll, and like every high-ranking jounin in the village, Mikoto caught it and raised an eyebrow at Kushina. “Getting cozy with Shikaku-san again?” 

“I got most of this intel from him. Also, this was originally an in-house Intelligence mission, but B complicated matters. I’m not even the mission head — Yoshino just sent me out specifically to steal you from the MP.” 

“Yoshino’s mission head?” 

“This is her show,” Kushina confirmed. “We’re just waiting on her to show up, but she said I should read you in on the situation.”

Officially, Yoshino was a mid-level chuunin paper-pusher at the mission assignment office. Unofficially, she was a high-ranking staffer of the very secretive and very inappropriately named Diplomat Corps of Intelligence, where at war time the only diplomacy done was political assassinations and sabotage. Mikoto herself had only gotten clearance to know what Yoshino’s real position was after Mikoto’s border control squad was assigned to defend Yoshino on a trip to Tanzaku-gai. Yoshino was a brilliant strategist and analyst — but she didn’t have the firepower to match her clearance level, and she couldn’t leave the safety of the village walls without precautions. 

Mikoto had had her suspicions of where Yoshino had ended up, but for a position as sensitive as the Diplomat Corps, not even old genin teammates were allowed to know. It was the way of things. You get a genin team, you learn to love them, and war pushes you to grow up and grow out. Sometimes people can’t quite manage it. And sometimes, people turn out like Sakumo-sensei. 

With the ease of practice, Mikoto crushed the melancholy growing in her chest and tore the first privacy seal off the wall. If they’re waiting for Yoshino, it’s best to get her tea ready. 

Yoshino got there not long after Kushina had finished briefing Mikoto; she took one long, uncomfortably knowledgeable look at Mikoto, and said, “I didn’t think Kushina would manage to get you onboard.” 

News travelled fast, especially within Intelligence. Mikoto was uncharacteristically tongue-tied, and couldn’t quite manage to correct Kushina when she scoffed at Yoshino. “There’s no way that Mikoto-chan would turn down a mission as interesting as this, you know! I told you she won’t let us down!” 

Mikoto studiously avoided Yoshino’s eye, and after a moment, she just sighed. “I’m lucky you took the mission anyway, then,” Yoshino grumbled. “If I have to take this ridiculously recognizable tomato with me, at least I get to take one of our undiscovered silent-genius ghost-killers with me too.” 

Kushina, who had been taking a draught of her lukewarm tea, choked and snorted half of it out of her nose. “Our Miko-chan?” She spluttered. “A ghost-killer? Yoshino, look at her — she looks like a porcelain doll! Half the jounin at the standby station fight each other for the privilege of walking her home, and she bakes cookies on the weekends to take to all five orphanages near the Hokage Tower. She’s the epitome of sweetness! Of ladylike charm!” 

“I know,” Yoshino answered patiently. “I was there when Inoichi’s ponytail caught fire. But that doesn’t change the fact that for the past year, Mikoto’s been dropping by Intelligence every week collecting bounties like clockwork. How many heads have you claimed by now? Fifty? Sixty?” 

“Eighty-five,” Mikoto said coolly, lighting the tea light under her own pot with a single focused point of chakra. That was news to her — she hadn’t known that people were calling her ghost-killer behind her back. “Who started calling me that?”

Yoshino ignored Kushina’s exaggerated “Ooooh,” and ruthlessly threw the culprit into the fire. “It was Inoichi. He might still be a little sore about his ponytail, but really Mikoto. I’m not sure if you’ve been keeping up with the news, but every bounty you claimed in the last year is still marked as MIA in their home villages — and you’re _still_ not on any Bingo Book. Not even Iwa’s, and I’m certain half of those bounties were Iwa-nin. Even I’ve made it in, and I’ve been a chuunin for what, ten years now?” 

“It’s not exactly a compliment, is it?” Mikoto’s mouth curled a little as she tried out the words. “Ghost-killer. Not exactly a name you want your children to hear about you.” 

“We’re shinobi,” Yoshino countered. “It’s definitely a compliment to hear that you’re so good at your job, no one ever makes it home to draw a sketch of your extremely beautiful face. And it’s definitely useful.” She slid a stack of reports across the table for Mikoto to memorize, and continued. “Tomato here won’t be of much use in the first half of the operation. The Red Hot Habanero is too famous; you and I are going to have to handle reconnaissance alone. 

“We’ll move into Yugakure under a false mission; you’ll be Adachi Mai, daughter of well-off merchant Adachi Kenji, soon to be married to Nagao Ryuzo. You’re travelling to Yugakure as a last vacation by yourself before marriage, and also to go shopping for clothes without having to contend with wartime embargoes and rationing. I’ll be your escort Nara Yoshino, career chuunin desperate for a mission to stretch my legs.” 

Two layers of deception, then: the fiction of Adachi Mai, and the illusion that Yoshino was the guard and not the guarded. 

“We’ll take a day to case the joint, get a feel of their security, and adjust mission plans as necessary. Kushina, you’re to follow us on the road, but you’re not to come within a half-mile radius of Yugakure. We’ll send word by Mikoto’s summons once we’ve got enough solid intel, but just in case we can’t use summoning jutsu within the village, we’ll need those message relay scrolls you made from your last mission in Kusa.” 

“They’re not done yet,” Kushina protests. “They start leaking chakra the moment you put one drop of ink on the paper, and no amount of suppression seals we put on Mikoto will disguise —”

“Suppression seals?!” Mikoto blurted out at the same time Yoshino hissed “We haven’t gotten her to agree to that yet!” 

There was a beat of silence — embarrassed on Kushina’s end, exasperated on Yoshino’s — before Yoshino stiffly admitted: “Yugakure’s stationed sensors on every entry to the village. They’re not taking chances, not with the war going the way it is, and word on the street is their sensors are good enough to weed out shinobi from civilians. You’re a jounin with pretty good chakra reserves, and you’ve got a very tightly controlled presence. If we don’t put you in suppression seals, they’re going to find you in a heartbeat.” 

Mikoto had used suppression seals before — on wanted criminals, on spies, on enemy ninja on the wrong side of Konoha’s borders. It was never pretty. Every shinobi above genin in Konoha went through complete chakra suppression at least once, in the mandatory counterintelligence training unit, and the day that Sakumo-sensei took the three of them to get the unit done was a day they never spoke about. 

Perhaps it might have been more terrifying for Kushina, who had always been a roaring furnace of chakra even before the Kyuubi was sealed into her, and perhaps it was less so for Yoshino, who even as genin preferred to use her head and not her strength in a fight. But Mikoto spent hours and days and months and years in an uphill climb to force the energy within herself to follow her will, to occupy the space that Mikoto dictated, to move only upon her command. It was wartime, and it was  _ still  _ wartime, and there will always be more terrifying horrors that Konoha shinobi will put themselves through in the name of the village. But chakra suppression seals did more than suppress. They disrupted chakra flow, severed one from the spirit, tore apart the delicate spider silk that cradled the whole of Mikoto’s vulnerable core — 

“Would it be the standard suppression seals, then?” She heard herself ask, voice cool and professional. 

“If Kushina can’t pull through in time, yes,” Yoshino replied, voice just as cool and professional. 

“You don’t have to —” Kushina began, but Mikoto interrupted. 

“I accept.” The scent of houjicha, grounding and warm — Mikoto will always do what it takes to keep the will of fire alive. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've had this on file since what, May 2019? It's not done and I don't know if I'll ever continue this, but I wanted to put it up and put it out anyway! Better to publish it into the ether than let it languish in my Google Drive. Plus, Naruto ALWAYS needs more lesbian content T.T


End file.
